Description
Mr. Walsh discusses his company’s low-key reaction to news that the war was over, and describes an amusingly disappointing attempt at celebration.
Graham Walsh
Graham Walsh was born in Sydney, Nova Scotia, on January 22, 1925. He was the third of seven children. His father worked in a steel mill, and made a bit extra selling coke, a smelting byproduct. His father died when he was seven, and Mr. Walsh and his brother worked odd jobs to help the family. He joined the local reserves when he was fifteen and two years later, at the age of seventeen, enlisted for overseas service. Once in England, he was overlooked for Italian deployment and immediately volunteered for Normandy. Mr. Walsh served from France to post-war Germany, via the liberation of Holland, all with the Royal Regiment of Canada. He was fortunate to survive three wounds while in action.
Transcript
Isn’t that amazing. You’d think you’d be going wild. Yeah, we had attacked that afternoon. It had rained and then the sun came out. It got nice and warm and our echelon unit moved up with us where we were in a small village and what we use to call our top sergeant. He was in charge of all rationing, ammunition, stuff for the guns, everything that they needed for the guns. And he more or less travelled with that unit that stayed back a little bit behind the lines. And he came down to me, he said, “Come on with me we’re going down to get some rations.” There was a railroad station just down the edge of the village. And we went down and walked up on the platform. There was a baggage area there and the fellas were hooting and hollering and screeching and screaming, running around. Asked them, “what the problem, what was going on? ” “War is over tomorrow morning, eight o’clock.” Well, it’s just wonderful. Isn’t it just wonderful, but that’s about the extent of what it was. I never heard nothing in the lines whatsoever, you know. The guys just took it for what it was. It’s over. We’re not going to have to worry. You can empty your rifle, you can forget all it was. But I remember I wasn’t much for, I didn’t take much for liquor or anything at that time, but I used to get my rations. We didn’t get them often but we used to get them. So I used to put them in a water bottle that I had and I kept them in that underneath the seat of my tank and that day the water bottle was full right to the neck. About a quart and a half of rum in it, black rum in it. And this top sergeant was pretty good fellow. He knew how to handle his liquor and I said to him, “Oh god,” I said, “I got just the right thing.” I said, “Come on back down to the carrier.” Went back to the carrier and reached underneath the seat and I got the canteen out and I pulled the cork on it. “Here, help yourself”, and he took a big guzzle out of it and up it came the whole thing on the ground. “What in the name of god do you got in there? ” So, we looked at it and we tried. What must have happened was the liquor, the rum must have mixed with the enamel and it turned coal black and it was deadly. And he said, “You know I could really cry for the first time in my life.” He said, “Seeing that all going on the ground!” But there was no hoopla whatsoever. There was just a wonderful feeling to wake up in the morning. There was no guns going off. There was no rattling. There was no clanging. There was nobody moving. There was nobody digging slit trenches. It was wonderful!